


Save the Last Dance

by FaultyParagon



Series: RWBY AUs [15]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Companionable Snark, Drama, Family Drama, Ironwitch, M/M, Meet-Cute, Or Goodwood as I call it, Or maybe meet-awkward, Qrow Branwen Has Issues, Qrow being in education is such an ongoing headcanon, Romance, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, either way Qrow isn't happy, fair game, the summary is a travesty, welcome to my brain, will probs add more tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25430089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaultyParagon/pseuds/FaultyParagon
Summary: Qrow was getting sick of unlimited bread, as delicious and upscale as it was during that blind date where he was ultimately stood up. Good thing Clover came along to fill him up with a little something else. It's unfortunate that Qrow's not looking for what Clover's serving- not that like that's going to stop anyone involved, the absolute heathens.-Aka Clover and Qrow get into a bunch of shenanigans including: convincing Qrow that Clover's a good choice and this whole relationship thing is a pretty rad idea, facing some spicy nieces, calming down a meddling mother-hen best friend, and attending a wedding in the best way possible. Modern AU Fair Game with a side of Goodwood (Ironwitch, but my name for it's better and I will fight you on that).
Relationships: Clover Ebi & Ruby Rose & Yang Xiao Long, Glynda Goodwitch/James Ironwood, Qrow Branwen & Clover Ebi, Qrow Branwen & Ruby Rose & Yang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen & Taiyang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: RWBY AUs [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690948
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Save the Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just leaving this here for a bit. Let me know if you'd like to see more!

Qrow was getting sick of unlimited bread.

He hadn’t wanted to come to this restaurant in the first place – it was far too posh for his taste, with glittering chandeliers hanging low from high ceilings, their gentle lights flickering through a million crystals and cascading upon the creamy white walls of the elegant hall, creating a rainbow-like, surreal ambiance. The tablecloths, white and long and pristine, trailed just above his slacks that were far too rumpled to belong within this establishment. The wait staff knew it, too, their eyes judgemental as they came to refill his water for the nth time, a slight buzzing in the air that should have carried romance and wonder alongside the tender keys of the piano player smoothly filling the hall, but instead brought nothing but tittering speculation from the other diners to Qrow’s ears.

He leaned back in his chair, wincing as it squeaked ever-so-slightly, crossing one leg over the other and running his fingers back through his hair, dragging them down to run across his chin. The skin was already coarse with pinpricks of stubble, and he groaned; he had shaved that morning, but of course his beard was already coming back, and he knew for certain that he himself, with his blazer and its tiny coffee stain from that morning and his scuffed dress shoes, were out of place. More than anything, he wished to be back in Crow Bar, the pub dimly lit and full of raucous laughter at all times. There, he could have swivelled around on a bar stool, his buzz from his fourth beer leading him to wink and gesture at whatever lady struck his fancy that evening. He knew his red eyes and coy smile could win anyone over; a growl in their ear, a touch of his callused fingertips upon their cheek as he brushed their hair out of their face, the barest trace of their lips and a sultry gaze into their eyes was all he needed to turn anyone into putty in his hands. He knew the games he played. They were not befitting of this extravagance.

His patience was running out, although his dignity was long gone. Taiyang had insisted upon his attendance that evening, promising that his dinner partner would be, “exactly what Qrow needed” to get out of this “slump” he was in – why Taiyang continued to insist it was a slump and not just Qrow’s transitory nature, Qrow would never understand. His best friend was a monogamous man who was nothing if not the perfect doting father, so Qrow’s inability to settle down, to even commit more than one night, more than just a few hours before a creeping sunrise, to another person, made no sense to him. Qrow didn’t mind, though, more than happy to play his role as the absent but loving uncle. His nieces didn’t require an aunt, so there was no fathomable reason for Qrow to properly settle down with someone as long as he showed up to the school on time every morning and didn’t lose any tests while marking.

And yet, here he was, still waiting for someone who was over half an hour late. The restaurant had an absolutely gorgeous clock in the center of the room, towering halfway up the wall in a stunning piece of mahogany minimalism, the numeral hours reflecting the ambient light in the most ethereal way. The other diners were likely not bothered by it at all; this section of the room was mostly focused on small tables, couples, business dealings, quiet murmurings droning together to cause a build up a din that would normally be pleasant. Alone at his table, Qrow felt as if every blurred, distant syllable was a mockery to him, the ticking of the clock resounding in his ears like a funeral march to his own death, the death of his pride; or, perhaps, to the death of Taiyang, for when he got his hands on the man-

Finally, his phone buzzed as Taiyang replied to his earlier messages. “’I’m so sorry’,” Qrow read aloud, feeling his head spin as he leaned an elbow on the table, “’but she just let me know that she can’t come’? What kind of bullshit is this?”

The muffled tapping of thick heels upon carpeted flooring caught his attention, so Qrow raised his eyes to look at the waitress, a dainty young woman with a pitying smile on her face. “I’m sorry sir, but would you like to order soon?” she asked, holding out a copy of the menu hopefully.

Qrow scowled, chewing the inside of his cheek. When he had first arrived, he had flirted with her easily, sending the waitress blushing as he had winked and crooned his name for the reservation, letting his eyes linger openly upon her long legs and ample chest. Her dimple made her seem quite young, though; he would never really go for a woman like that. However, that curiosity in her eyes when her eyes had roved over him had been more than entertainment enough while he awaited his supposed date for the evening, but in their absence, she was wearing a distinctly different expression. That look of curiosity had long soured, a cross mix of pity and barely-visible annoyance flitting across her face as she continued to refill his water and smile, asking the same questions over and over again without ever broaching the one query she, along with so many others with their intrigued eyes darting his way from their own tables, wanted to ask; whether he was waiting for someone who would ever arrive.

He sighed, cursing himself and his naiveté which had allowed him to listen to Tai, the absolute _bastard_ – the man was intent on finding him a partner, and yet it was clear that it hadn’t worked out in the slightest. At least he would never again feel bad about turning down one of Tai’s schemes, forever being able to bring up this disaster to the blond since nothing could ever top this teetering feeling of near-humiliation.

Looking back at the outstretched menu in the waitress’ hands, he sat up a little straighter, plastering on a tense smile. Would it be more or less humiliating to eat a full dinner by himself at this upstanding restaurant, or to just give the girl a tip for her efforts and leave? _Either way, I’m tearing Tai a new one later,_ he glowered silently.

He had almost made a decision to just finally give up and leave the restaurant at last – his favourite pub would always welcome him with open arms, and the night was young enough that he would certainly find a bed warmer to release his frustrations upon – when a figure rushed through the room towards him. “Hey, babe! I’m so sorry I’m late,” a flustered voice called, slipping into the seat in across from him.

Qrow looked up, disgruntled from the sudden appearance. Seated across from him was a man he had never seen before; he certainly didn’t work with any of these types, with their neat, gelled-back hair and upstanding aura.

The newcomer sent him a rueful smile, leaning arms so muscled Qrow could see the contours through prim rolled-up sleeves of a white dress shirt onto the table. Quietly, he whispered, amusement flashing within glittering green eyes, “The name’s Clover. Just play along.”

The waitress had taken a step back at this man’s – Clover’s – appearance, but was now blushing even fiercer, eyes darting between the two men with even more questions painted across her face. Clover merely grinned at her, all calm, amicable warmth as he reached out a hand, beckoning for the menus. “I’m so sorry for the delay- traffic was _terrible_ ,” he explained, all woeful consternation mixed with palpable relief. Turning back to Qrow, he added, “I hope I didn’t leave you waiting too long.”

Qrow could only blink at him, absolutely befuddled as the younger man’s cheeks blushed naturally as if truly flustered from running through the parking lot to get there. He was handsome, Qrow realized distantly, all broad shoulders and well-defined muscles, a sharp, clean jawline and clear skin, thin lips that were framed by laugh lines- evidence of humour and a good nature that contrasted with Qrow so easily that he could only imagine how bizarre they must have looked together; their rapt audience certainly seemed to agree, the idle chatter of other diners rising to a dull roar as people glanced over at their table beside the window, looking down into the city beyond.

A menu was held in front of his nose. Qrow accepted it awkwardly, nodding to the waitress as she took her leave to give them some privacy. The moment her back was turned, Qrow leaned forward, whispering hotly, “And who the hell are you, boy scout?”

Clover grinned, flipping open his menu. “My office is across the street,” he murmured, gesturing idly to the sleek office building just two doors down across the way from the restaurant. “It’s easy to see into this place from my window, and you’ve been sitting alone and eating nothing.” Empathetic, his eyes creased into knowing crescents. “You got stood up?”

Qrow felt himself blush, burying his nose into his menu but reading absolutely nothing. “…My friend set me up on a date that didn’t show,” he grumbled at last. “What of it?”

The younger man leaned a hand upon his cheek, inspecting Qrow carefully. “That’s such a shame. Your date is missing out, you know.”

“Butter me up all you want,” Qrow replied, absolutely exhausted, “but I’m not interested.”

“Really? How can you be so sure?”

Qrow gestured vaguely at him, his eyes finally settling upon a salmon dish that looked halfway decent. Putting down his menu with a dull thud, he crossed his arms and looked at Clover’s awaiting grin, the sight of it enough to spark a flash of irritation within his heart. “I’m not looking for some goody-two-shoes long haul investment, kid.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then, the strangest transformation in Clover’s face occurred. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what changed, with his expression remaining exactly the same to any onlookers still observing from afar the spectacle which was these two men and their awkward, clumsy dinner, but Qrow could feel the shift in the air within his very bones, could feel the way Clover’s stance shifted in his seat, his smile widening to expose perfectly-white teeth, green eyes narrowing a hairsbreadth, chin lifting in pride and a sense of self-assuredness oozing through every pore. Qrow was taken aback, watching it happen in the blink of an eye, the movement so subtle and so quick that he almost felt like he was imagining things, as if the lack of alcohol in his system at this hour was confusing his senses, as if he was simply misreading signs he was far too used to seeing in women and not men, not straight-laced pressed-shirt cordiality which clearly hid some kind of unrelenting _hunger_ that even Qrow wondered whether he could withstand.

The waitress approached. With ease, Clover pointed out his dish and a bottle of wine for the pair; Qrow gave his own order, handing their menus back to the young woman. Then, as she drew out of earshot, Clover raised his water glass, that heat in his eyes intensifying, juxtaposed with the voice slipping past his lips uncannily smooth and lighthearted as he murmured, “Let’s see about that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and let me know what you think :)


End file.
